Different
by FleetFan
Summary: How Logan met Carlos when they were still kids.


"Done!" Logan called, his hand hitting the air. He patiently waited while the teacher swept between the rows of desks. Finally she reached him.

"Are you finished?" she asked, her stern face softening to show pride. It only ever did for him.

"Yeah," he replied. "What can I do?"

"Help some of the kids in the back," she suggested, watching one of them as he snapped a pencil angrily between his hands. "They never learn much."

"I will," Logan agreed, although he inwardly sighed. It was always a disappointment when he had to help the "different" kids. They always had trouble with their work, which seemed strange to the genius. But the only obvious reason for their stupidity, as far as he could tell, was that they didn't study.

He was only nine years old. Perhaps he understood algebra well, but some concepts were beyond him.

Until now.

Logan wedged himself into an empty desk; they were the kind with the chairs connected. To his right was some girl whose name he forgot (Although she looked cute, so he reminded himself to find out later).

And to his left was Carlos Garcia, the goofy class clown.

Logan steeled himself for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to approach the small boy. Carlos wasn't even working; he had his hood yanked down over his face, his hands quivering as they gripped the folds of cloth. He seemed almost...sad.

Finally Logan stepped over to him and peered down at his work. Not a question answered. "Do you want me to help?" he asked mildly. He tried to hide the fear in his voice.

Carlos reluctantly let the hood fall down, but he didn't look up. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the desktop. Still, Logan was observant enough to notice the swollen red lines circling the younger boy's eyes. He knew better than to ask the insensitive question burning on his lips: _Have you been crying?_

The only obvious answer.

"Sure," Carlos agreed eventually. "I...I'm not so good at math."

_Well, maybe if you payed attention more... _Logan quickly stopped that train of thought before it could burst from his lips. This was fourth grade, and an insult like that, as true as it was, would get punished for.

Logan had never been punished before. He was at the top of the class and he considered the teacher to be his best friend.

But honestly, that was only because none of the kids his age wanted to play with him. None of them considered him a friend.

Somehow he knew joining a gym and buzz-cutting his hair wouldn't help.

Logan returned his attention to Carlos and gazed at the first problem, which had a few numbers scrawled next to it. He did the math in his head and searched the confusing jumble for the correct answer. What he spotted surprised him.

Logan pinned his finger to the number at the very bottom. "Look, you already have the answer to this one." Impressive. It started to make him feel jealous, but he moved on.

The next problem was slightly more complicated. "Could you try to do this for me?" Logan prompted. He tried to use the same soothing, gentle voice that his teachers used. The kind of voice that relaxed you, that whispered _No pressure _in your ear.

But it just made Carlos goggle at him. "Fourteen," he stammered after a moment.

"We'll see if that's right," Logan said grudgingly. Then he scanned the problem and began adding, subtracting, and dividing in his head.

This was even more startling because it was the second time in a row. How could this be happening?

"Correct again," Logan allowed; he was mystified. Then he paused, suspicious. "Listen, do you really need my help?"

"...Maybe not," Carlos admitted. "But you can you please stay?" The pain in his eyes was all too clear as he pleaded his classmate to stay by his side.

Whatever encouraged him to say it, later on he would feel grateful. "Okay."

Logan sat down next to Carlos and watched the boy work out the problems step by step. He had an odd, backwards way of doing the math. Nonetheless, almost each time he came out with the right answer. And each time Logan congratulated him, the pain in his face eased a bit.

After Carlos had finished, Logan took the sheet and checked over it, although he had no doubts. Afterwards the other boy reached to have it back, but Logan didn't let go. He clenched it tightly in his hands, a frown creasing over his eyes. "I thought..." he began. He was forced to swallow the lump in his throat. "...I thought you were stupid."

There was hurt in Carlos's eyes. He swiped the paper back and smoothed it out on his desk. Logan had struck a nerve. "Well, I proved you wrong, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry. Can we please be friends?"

The question took them both by surprise. It made Carlos flinch and Logan clap a hand over his mouth. Neither of them had either heard or used those words in a conversation before.

"Sure," Carlos choked out. But after they'd both recovered from the shock, they turned to each other and smiled.

"Best friends," Logan said happily. Then he added, upon a moment of hesitation, "...I never thought it would be that easy."

It was a few more minutes until he spoke again. "Why do you get such bad grades when you're actually...smart?"

That word was so rarely ever associated with the troublemaker.

But it was the adjective adults had been using to describe Logan ever since he started reading Shakespeare at eight.

Their personalities were almost polar opposites, but there was one thing they shared: intelligence. And for the first time Logan felt like he had met his match.

For once Carlos didn't get offended at the implication being made. "I act...stupid...because I don't like school."

"Why?" Logan asked earnestly. He was confused as to why anyone would hate it.

"It's just a dumb idea," Carlos muttered. "Haven't you ever thought about it? Our whole life revolves around it. Even summer is just a _break._ And all it is...is work. Boring work." In a quieter voice, he mumbled, _"Easy work."_

"Carlos," Logan said. He took the boy's hand. It was warm and live, unlike the hard plastic of his sister's dolls that he played with sometimes. "Maybe your work is so easy because the teachers can't see your _potential. _But what if I talk to them for you?"

Then something unexpected happened. Carlos burst out laughing. "Wow, you really _do_ care about this kind of stuff! I mean, I'd heard that your dad was a college professor, but I never thought you'd be so..."

Logan instantly tried to pull his hand back out. He felt confused and conflicted about Carlos's harsh comment, although surely the boy hadn't realized the consequences of his words.

Carlos frowned when Logan's fingers slipped out of his hand. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, concern in his eyes. "You know I was just kidding."

But Logan was already curled up, with his hands locked over the top of his head._"School is important,"_ he was whispering fiercely to himself. _"Grades are important."_ It was as if he had to convince himself.

Carlos lifted an eyebrow and pried Logan's fingers apart, causing the boy's head to pop back up. He glanced around wildly as if for just a minute he'd been gone from the world. "Huh?" was the only thing he managed to say.

"You've been brainwashed," Carlos snickered. Then he whacked Logan's arm playfully. "C'mon, haven't you ever heard of hockey? I hear it's the new 'school.'"

Logan's face contorted in horror, which made Carlos correct himself. "I mean...it's almost as good as school!"

They both laughed as Logan realized how much he had overreacted. "It does sound cool," he acknowledged timidly. Suddenly he felt very shy, like everyone was watching him.

"Okay, then..." Carlos shifted around nervously, subject to similar feelings. Finally he looked Logan in the eye."...Since we're friends...Could I take you to a hockey game?"

Logan's face lit up. His heart swelled indefinitely. "S-Seriously?" he cried. Then he leaped up and pumped the air with a fist. _"Yessss!"_

The teacher overheard him and pressed a finger to her lips. "Ssshhh!"

But Logan only grinned daringly and said one last thing. "I don't think it's impossible to be a good student _and_ a troublemaker."


End file.
